You are my Redemption
by SierraRose98
Summary: -REWRITTEN- Hermione Granger is returning to Hogwarts to complete her final year in the aftermath of the War. She can see the scars everywhere she looks, and though Voldemort is dead, nothing will be the same again. Unfortunate events force her path to cross with none other than Draco Malfoy's. But is he capable of change? Is he capable of finding redemption?
1. Bridges

Hermione stood on the platform with her trolley, staring at the plain looking brick wall in front of her. It felt strange knowing that this would be the final time that she would pass through this wall to the concealed platform nine and three quarters, board the Hogwarts Express, and travel to the school that had become her home. A sigh escaped her lips at that word. Home.

She still hadn't told Harry and Ron about her current living situation.

Since she had removed all traces of herself from the memories of her parents the previous year, Hermione had been residing alone in her parents' house. During the holiday, she had travelled to Australia, and spent weeks in search of her mother and father, but despite all her efforts she could not find them. She had known this would be a risk when she wiped her parents' memories to keep them safe during the war, that she may never see them again, but she still found it hard to process in her mind that her parents were out there somewhere, not even aware of their only daughter's existence.

Hermione felt the sting of tears pricking her eyes but wiped them away angrily before anyone could see. She was Hermione Granger. She had aided in the downfall of Voldemort. She was strong. She didn't cry.

Walking forward through the invisible barrier, Hermione was so caught up in her thoughts that she accidently bumped into someone on the platform, jolting them forwards onto their trolley and causing one of their smaller suitcases to topple onto the ground. Aghast, she immediately started apologising profusely, bending down to pick up the fallen suitcase and replace it onto the trolley. Her apologies fell dead on her tongue when she turned around to see who it was she had bumped into.

She met Malfoy's cool grey eyes and time seemed to freeze.

His face brought rushing back the painful memories she had been trying to block out, of being held to the floor of Malfoy Manor by Bellatrix Lestrange, having the word 'Mudblood' carved into her arm, the agony of the Cruciatus curse…

The knife Lestrange used must have been cursed, for the word in her arm would not fade naturally. The nurses at St Mungo's hospital had tried their best to get rid of it, but the word could still faintly be seen, permanently tattooed onto her arm.

Malfoy had been there.

He had done nothing while she was being tortured. A small voice in her head reasoned that he had had no choice, but she still hated him for it. His father had gone to Askaban after the death of Voldemort, but all Death Eaters who were under a certain age were not sentenced to imprisonment, as the ministry officials understood that many children of Death Eaters had not had a choice in whose side they wanted to be on. Instead, they were banned from using magic outside of Hogwarts until they had finished their final year, a couple of years later than the usual allowance.

Hermione sucked in a breath and calmed herself, pushing down the harrowing memories of the war that he had caused to resurface. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her weak. She waited for him to speak, meeting his cool gaze unflinchingly, expecting some kind of spiteful remark or a derogatory comment about her supposed inferiority.

But none came. His face was set in a stony mask, unreadable, and his grey eyes yielding nothing as to what he was thinking. Malfoy was a master of concealing all feeling.

Or maybe he just didn't have any, she thought bitterly.

Finally Malfoy opened his mouth to say something before closing it, as if changing his mind, before opening it again and speaking in a cool, detached voice, "Watch where you're going, Granger." Hermione watched his platinum blond head disappear into the crowd of bodies on the platform as he swiftly pushed his trolley away from her.

She scowled at his retreating form, confused and infuriated by his unusual demeanour. She would almost have welcomed a verbal duel with Malfoy, anything to return the world into some feeling of normality. After so much had changed it would have been reassuring to have at least one constant, one thing that had outlasted the war, evening if it was just a conflict with Malfoy.

War isn't over when it ends.

It changes people. It leaves scars that take more than a victory to heal. War changes everything.

Raising her head to take in the familiar sight of platform nine and three quarters, Hermione managed to pick out a few of her classmates, and saw numerous first years looking completely awe struck, just as she had been all those years ago in her first year. However, she could not spot Harry and Ron anywhere. She sighed. She had hoped to be able to see them before she boarded to tell them that she could not sit with them straight away as she had to meet Professor Mcgonagall in the Head Girl and Head Boy compartment to discuss their duties. Biting her lip, she realised that this was another thing she had neglected to tell Harry and Ron. Becoming head girl had been something she had been dreaming about since her first year, but with her situation at home, she had been unable to feel particularly excited for the role.

On boarding the train, she wondered who the Head Boy would be. She hoped it would be Harry. As much as she loved Ron, she couldn't quite picture hi in the role of Head Boy. But she also knew that it was unlikely to be Harry if she was Head Girl, as the Headmaster- Headmistress, Hermione had to remind herself- normally tried to pick students from different houses for the role. She prayed it would be someone she could get along with, for in her letter it had said that this year, the Head boy and girl would be given their own private common room which they were to share. Obviously it had separate sleeping quarters, but Hermione was still not thrilled with the prospect.

She arrived at her designated compartment and sat down, staring out of the window, watching in amusement as someone let off one of Fred and George's mini-fireworks, before being told off by a haughty looking prefect. 'Just George's fireworks now' a small voice in her head whispered. Her amusement vanished in a heartbeat. Many losses had been suffered in the war, but none had hit her as hard as the death of Fred Weasley, who had been like an older brother to her.

Through her letters with Harry and Ron, she learnt that George was still grieving, but was trying to put on a brave face. The tragedy of it was horrible. Throughout her years at Hogwarts, Hermione didn't think she had ever seen the twins apart. They came as a pair, they were a package deal. Her train of thought was interrupted as she heard her compartment door slide open behind her. She banished the thoughts of the past from her head, and turned to smile at the person who she would be sharing duties with over the course of the next year, but she froze in place when she saw who was standing in the entrance of the compartment.

Malfoy's face seemed to hold the same dismay as she felt. But he quickly regained his composure, barely sparing her a glance as he sat down opposite her and stared pointedly out of the window. Hermione was still in disbelief and was having trouble stringing a coherent sentence together in her shock, "Y-You? But why- who would- there must be a mista- you can't be head bo- I am not sharing a dorm with YOU!" Hermione fumed. What was Mcgonagall thinking? Giving Malfoy, MALFOY, the boy who had tormented her for the past six years, who had been a DEATH EATER, the position of Head Boy.

The carriage door slid open and the Headmistress entered the compartment. Immediately Hermione jumped to her feet. "Professor please, you cannot expect me to share duties with- with him! Let alone a dorm!" she pleaded, casting a scathing look at Malfoy who tore his gaze from the window to glare back at her with equal venom. Mcgonagall watched the interaction and sighed, "Miss Granger please sit down, I will explain the arrangements and their reasons shortly to you, but I need you both to try and cooperate while I do."

Hermione sat down grudgingly, shooting a glare at Malfoy. Mcgonagall cleared her throat, "You have both read your letters so you know that this year it has been decided that the Head Boy and Head Girl are to be sharing a common room." She raised a hand to silence Hermione, who was about to interrupt, causing Malfoy to smirk, but he too was silenced by a glare from Mcgonagall. "The reason for this is because after the.. events of last year-" Hermione thought she saw Malfoy flinch at the mention of the war, but when she looked at him his mask of composure was set on his face. "-it has been decided that this is going to be a year where unity between ALL houses it created. You Know Who may be gone, but prejudice between certain houses is still strong, and this year, that is going to end. You two have been put together in order to set an example which others will follow." Malfoy rolled his eyes and spoke in a bored tone, "This is never going to work."

"For once I agree with Malfoy Professor." Hermione interjected sullenly.

"I did not come here to negotiate with the two of you. This is final. This is an opportunity to forget your differences and build bridges. This year is going to be a year of new beginnings." For the last sentence, she looked directly at Malfoy, who Hermione noticed refused to meet Mcgonagall's eyes.

After giving the pair of them a list of their roles and duties as the Head Boy and Girl, Mcgonagall swept out of the compartment, leaving Malfoy and Hermione glaring daggers at each other. Hermione couldn't believe that she would have to spend her final year in the company of Malfoy. What could she possibly have done to deserve this? As if reading her thoughts, Malfoy said, "Believe me, I am no happier about this than you are."

"I sincerely doubt that," she retorted before stalking out of the compartment to find Harry and Ron. This was certainly going to be an interesting year.

…

Hermione thought her ribcage was going to collapse. "Guys – missed you too – but – can't – breathe!" Harry and Ron released her from their tight hug, which Hermione though may have caused a punctured lung, and laughed, "We haven't seen you all summer Mione!" Ron cried, grinning his goofy grin and planting a kiss on her cheek, causing her to blush deeply and a strange, uncomfortable feeling twist her stomach. But she pushed it down, acquitting it to her guilt of not seeing them all holiday.

"I know! I missed you guys." Sitting down in the compartment, the pair told Hermione everything they had done at the Weasley's that summer, and about Arthur Weasley's promotion in the ministry. "And what about you Hermione, how was your holiday with your parents?" Harry asked once they had finished recounting everything. Hermione felt awful lying to the pair of them, but she couldn't share her secret with them just yet, she wasn't ready. "Uh, yeah it was really good thanks Harry," Hermione vaguely described the holiday that she and her parents had supposedly gone on.

Luckily the boys couldn't ask her anymore questions about her holiday, as Luna Lovegood entered the compartment, wearing an extremely strange pair of glasses, the lens of which seemed to swirl when Hermione looked at them. "Gosh Hermione," Luna said as she sat down, "your head is full of nargles today, something's troubling you isn't it." Hermione had become used to Luna's strange beliefs and actions, and over the course of the last few years she had grown to respect the unusual girl immensely. "Actually I am a bit troubled today, you see I've become Head girl and-"

"What!? Hermione that's great!" Ron interrupted, "why didn't you tell us?"

"Sorry I forgot," she replied guiltily.

"Why is becoming Head girl troubling you? I thought you wanted to become Head girl?" Harry frowned.

"Well I did," Hermione sighed, "but they've given Malfoy Head Boy and I have to share a dorm with him." Ron choked on the chocolate frog he had been eating, his face quickly turning a shade of red. Harry whacked him hard on the back, dislodging the chocolate frog.

"WHAT?" Ron spluttered, "You have to share a down with- with that Death Eater, with that FERRET? How is this even allowed? This must be crossing some kind of line they can't expect you to-" Ron continued ranting, flailing his arms in the air as he spoke, before Harry cut him off, "Look, we'll go and see Professor Mcgonagall tomorrow and get her to change the rules, I'm sure she'll-"

"It's no use," Hermione interrupted miserably, "we tried to persuade her but she seems pretty set on it. She says it will 'encourage unity of the houses'".

"This-this is ridiculous!" Ron cried.

"Old Mcgonagall's finally lost it," Harry said shaking his head.

"Some pexicorns probably found their way into her head when she was sleeping," Luna mused, forcing Ron to muffle a laugh with his sleeve.

…

Having arrived and taken the carriages to the castle, all of the students except the first years filed into the great hall and took their usually seats at each of the four house tables. Hermione couldn't help but feel a pang in her chest that it was Professor Mcgonagall, and not Dumbledore, sitting at the centre of the table. A sidelong glance at Harry and she could tell that he was thinking the same thing.

Once everyone had taken their seats, the first years all entered the hall , staring around wide eyed in wonder at their surroundings, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at how small they all were, finding it hard to believe that six years ago that had been her, Harry and Ron. Silence fell over the great hall as the sorting hat burst into song, as it did at the beginning of every year.

"_Another year over, another year has started,_

_New first years to replace those who now have departed,_

_I see this is a year of closing old doors, _

_Of seeing what we could not before,_

_A year of change, a year of new beginnings,_

_Of mourning our losses, and celebrating out winnings, _

_A year of unlikely alliances forming, _

_This is the year a new light is dawning,_

_So listen students, and listen well,_

_To what this old hat has to tell,_

_Whether you believe my words or not,_

_Believe me, I can see what you cannot,_

_And now I come to the end of this year's song,_

_To sort you first years to where you belong!"_

The great hall burst into applause as the hat came to the end of its song. Harry leant over to Hermione, "Well that was different than its usual songs, I wonder what it meant."

"I know, what could it mean by 'unlikely alliances forming'," she wondered.

After the first years had been sorted, and Mcgonagall had informed the first years of the rules and had made a few announcements, there was the annual feast to celebrate the beginning of the year. By the end of the feast, Hermione was in high spirits, it felt good to be back. Her good mood did not last long however, as she saw professor Mcgonagall beckoning her over by the doors of the great hall, a sullen looking Malfoy standing by her side.

"I have to go guys," Hermione sighed, "looks like Mcgonagall wants to show me and Malfoy to our dorm."

"Make sure you hex him if he says or does anything to you," Ron muttered darkly. Hermione laughed and proceeded to approach Mcgonagall and Malfoy. Boy this was going to be fun.

**Some of you may know that I began this story I few months ago, but I removed it as I wanted to make some changes and improvements to it. I have the whole plot figured out, so I warn you now readers, you are in for a bumpy ride my friends. **

**I would LOVE for people to leave reviews, it really inspires me, and please follow and favourite if you enjoyed this first chapter! Updates should be weekly.**


	2. Sound

Draco Malfoy watched from the doors of the great hall as Granger got up from the Gryffindor table and approached where he and Mcgonagall were standing. As she walked towards them, he observed how she had changed over the course of the last few years. Her once huge mane of hair had lost some of its bushiness, and as it had grown longer the weight of it had flattened it out. Slightly.

She wasn't like most other girls. She didn't wear makeup, or tight fitting clothing, but now as Draco really looked at her, he could see how she had evolved over the past years. Despite her baggy clothes, he could tell that she had filled out around the hips and bust, and her cheek bones had become more defined. Her skin, even though she used no makeup or beauty potions like many of the Slytherin girls did, held no blemishes. She was in fact very prett- Draco stopped himself. She was a mudblood, an annoying teachers' pet, a bookworm who he would never, COULD never find remotely attractive. He scoffed under his breath that he had even been thinking along those lines, blaming it on tiredness.

Regarding her with close scrutiny, he noticed that one thing had changed. Her eyes. They had lost her youthful innocence, that naivety that the world was a good place. The war had caused her eyes to harden.

He didn't know why that bothered him.

As Granger neared them, Mcgonagall said under her breath, "Please, try to be civil for once." Malfoy smirked. There was a fat chance of that, this was Granger they were talking about. Hermione reached the point where they were standing, wearing a resigned expression on her face. "Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, both of you are to follow me and I will take you to the Head Students' dormitory." Malfoy groaned inwardly but followed, and Hermione followed suit, refusing to look at Malfoy and clenching her jaw. They followed Mcgonagall up the moving stair cases, until they came to the fourth floor, stopping in front of a portrait of a black hippogriff. He scowled at the portrait. He never had been particularly fond of the giant chickens.

"The password is Basilisk. Inside, your luggage is already in your separate rooms. I will let you two explore the quarters on your own but before I leave you I would just like to reiterate: I am expecting you two to lead the way in starting to build unity between the houses." Mcgonagall looked back and forth between the two of them expectantly. "I can't promise anything but we'll try Professor," Granger said sullenly. Draco laughed inwardly, as he could hear the lie on her tongue. "I am sure you will Miss Granger," Mcgonagall said, casting a final pointed look at Malfoy before transfiguring herself into a cat and disappearing round the corner.

…

Hermione watched Mcgonagall go with a sinking feeling in her chest. She would rather be handling some of Hagrid's blast ended skrewts than be alone with Draco Malfoy. And yet, here she was. Shaking her head at her ill fortune she turned to the portrait of the hippogriff and spoke the password. The hippogriff bowed to her and the portrait swung open. She climbed in through the portrait hole without a backwards glance at Malfoy, hearing the portrait swing shut as he followed her in.

Once inside, Hermione stopped and took in the dormitory with wide eyes; it was huge. From where she was standing she could see two armchairs, one red and one green, in front of a large stone fireplace, a sizable kitchen, the door to the bathroom, and two doors on either side of the main room which she assumed lead to the separate bedrooms. From the ceiling there hung an intricate candelabra bearing candles. But the thing that made her release an involuntary squeal of delight was the sight of a row of bookcases along one wall, containing row after row of books. Hermione ran to them and ran her hands over the spines of the books as if they were sacred to touch.

Malfoy on the other hand was not as impressed. "Great, we have some bookcases. Not like Hogwarts doesn't have a library or anything." He said bluntly.

"It's probably Mcgonagall's way of saying sorry to me for making me have to endure you." Hermione snapped irritably. Malfoy rolled his eyes before taking to exploring the dormitory himself. Hermione engrossed herself in a book about the transfiguration of liquids. She wasn't able to read far though, as Malfoy interrupted her reading, "There only one bathroom."

"Well done genius you can count. And?"

"AND Granger," Malfoy growled, glowering down at her, "I am not sharing a bathroom with a girl, let alone you."

Hermione scoffed, "Oh get over yourself Malfoy, do you not share a bathroom at home?"

"No, actually I don't, I have my own," Malfoy sneered contemptuously. Could he be any more of an ass? Hermione thought to herself with a roll of her eyes. "Well unless you know how to transfigure yourself a bathroom, I suggest you get over it. I don't know what you're complaining about really, this place is huge compared to the common rooms." Hermione said, looking around once more at her new lodgings.

"Huge?" Malfoy scoffed, "if you want to see huge you should come and visit Malfoy Manor, then you would-"

"Actually," Hermione cut him off sharply, her voice low, "if you remember, I have already been to Malfoy Manor. I didn't particularly like it." She stared at him, daring him to say something, her eyes burning into his. She thought she saw an expression of what Hermione thought might have been pain cross Malfoy's face, but she knew she must have been mistaken as when she blinked, his face had transformed once again into his cold mask. He opened his mouth and closed it again. She had never seen Malfoy at a loss for words before. He stared back at her in silence for a few moments, before tearing his eyes away from hers and towards the ground. "I'm going to bed," he muttered, before striding past her and through the green door which led to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Hard.

Hermione sat in silence, replaying in her mind what had just happened. Had her words bothered him that much? Could it be that he felt remorse for what had happened to her? She shook her head, chiding herself for thinking that he was even capable of such feelings. Even so, she couldn't help but feel that she had been wrong to play that card. Malfoy hadn't been the one torturing her, he hadn't been the one to catch them. He had just been… there. Now that she really thought about it, Malfoy had maybe, just maybe been trying to help them when he said he couldn't recognise Harry in the Manor. He must have realised it was Harry, seeing as Hermione and Ron were there, and yet he still didn't tell his fellow Death Eaters that it was Harry, buying them valuable time that had possibly saved their lives. Hermione rubbed her fingertips in circles on her forehead.

She hadn't even been here for an hour and already Malfoy was making her head hurt.

…

Draco sat down heavily on his bed. He leant forwards, resting his chin upon his interlocked fingers. No other girl had the ability to put him at a loss for words like Hermione Granger had just done. Yes, he strongly disliked the girl, but he still never wished for what happened to her in the Manor to have happened. He shuddered at the mere memory, and ran shaky fingers through his hair. Many of his nights were still plagued by nightmares of the things he had seen during his time with the Death Eaters, and the events that occurred in Malfoy Manor that day was a regular occurrence in his nightmares. There was something about Granger's screams that day that had haunted him ever since. He had only ever seen her cry once, in their second year when he had called her a mudblood for the first time. Seeing her in such a helpless and desperate state had caused a pain in his chest that was unfamiliar to him. And what he found most hard to understand was how easily her inferior, dirty blood had left his mind and how desperately he had wanted to help her that day, to blast Bellatrix off her with his wand, to grab her and disapparate to somewhere safe where they couldn't hurt her... And yet he had done nothing. He had watched her scream and done nothing. 'Because you're a coward.' A snide voice in his head whispered.

A soft knock on the door shook him out of the tormenting memories. "Malfoy," he heard Granger's voice call, causing him to stiffen, "can you open the door a minute please." he frowned. Why would Granger want to speak to him now? He couldn't open the door. If he did, if he saw her face, the images of her pinned down to a cold marble floor as she was tortured would come back.

"Sorry I'm busy." He replied, trying to put as much coldness into his voice as he could muster. "Ok fine.." Hermione said from the other side of the door, "Look I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said, it was wrong of me to bring that night up. You had nothing to do with us being captured or me being tortured… If anything I think you helped us when you said that you didn't recognise Harry. It was unfair of me to say what I said. I'm sorry." She paused, as if waiting for him to say something. Realising he wasn't going to, she continued awkwardly, "Well er, now I've said what I wanted to say, um, goodnight I guess."

Draco sat and listened as Hermione left his door, until he heard the door to her room close. He let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. Granger was many things, but one of the things she was not was predictable. She always found new ways to surprise him. He couldn't understand why she had felt the need to apologise to him. What did she care about his feelings? If anything he should be the one apologising, apologising for doing nothing, for letting her get hurt. He shook his head angrily and scowled. He was beginning to think like a Gryffindor. She didn't deserve his apology. She was a mudblood. Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood. He repeated the word over and over in his head, trying to engrain it into his mind.

It's funny really. How when you repeat a word so many times, it eventually loses its meaning. Becomes just a sound.

**Thanks for reading! Special thanks to those of you who have reviewed already, it's always lovely to read your thoughts and feedback. Please follow/favourite/REVIEW! if you're enjoying this story. The next chapter will be posted next week.**


	3. Nightmares

Hermione lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her plagued mind robbing her of the possibility of sleep. Why had she said those things to Malfoy? He despised her and probably hadn't given a damn about her in the Manor. Her left arm stung unpleasantly at the memory. Hermione raised her left arm above her and stared at the foul word scarred permanently onto her skin. She ran a finger along the letters. 'That is all he will ever see you as. Dirty. A filthy mudblood.' A voice in her head whispered.

Hermione cringed but then shook herself, telling herself vehemently that she shouldn't give a damn about what Malfoy thought of her. He was spoilt and pathetic. Nothing more. And yet time and time again she still let his words get to her. She doubted that he even realised how much it hurt her whenever he called her a mudblood. She hated the word. She hated that she was singled out as a target of prejudice because of her heritage.

A sound tore her away from her thoughts. She sat up, listening intently. There it was again. She could faintly hear the sound of someone whimpering, and moaning from outside of her bedroom door. Picking up her wand from her bedside table, she cautiously made her way out of the room. She could now tell that the sound was coming from Malfoy's bedroom. She cautiously approached the door. Her brain told her she should go back to her bedroom, but her hand seemed to move of its own accord as she quietly opened the door to Malfoy's room.

Malfoy was writhing in his bed, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. His skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his throat emitted noises of anguish. Hermione knew that she should return to her room and leave him be, but something about this sight of him rendered her legs unable to leave him like this. Many of her nights were plagued with nightmares that made her wake up screaming, and she couldn't prevent her heart from going out to him. She approached the bed. "Malfoy," she said softly, "Malfoy wake up." But Malfoy didn't awaken, continuing to shake his head back and forth, his whole body quivering. Hermione tentatively reached out to touch his hand in an attempt to wake him from his nightmare.

At the touch of her hand, Malfoy's face immediately relaxed and his body stopped shaking. Surprised yet relieved at this reaction to her touch, Hermione turned to leave, but as she did she felt a cool hand close around hers. She froze. Turning back, she realised that Malfoy was still asleep. She tried to gently remove his fingers from around hers' without waking him, but that only seemed to succeed in making him tighten his grip on her hand. Hermione's gaze travelled to his face. Now that his sleep was free of nightmares, she couldn't help but wonder at how peaceful he looked.

His forehead was smooth without the lines of anguish, and his chest was rising and falling slowly. His hair gel had lost its hold on his hair, and it fell over his face slightly. She saw that his hair actually had a natural wave to it. His cheekbones were high and pronounced and his jawline was defined. Hermione couldn't help but notice how much more handsome he looked without his usual smirk or scowl painted across his face. She almost laughed. Had she really just thought of Malfoy as handsome?

Looking around the bedroom she saw a chair positioned by the wardrobe and quietly accioed it to where she was standing. She supposed it wouldn't hurt to sit here for a while until Malfoy released her hand. Trying her best not to move her hand, Hermione curled up on the chair next to Malfoy's bed, her hand still resting in his on the sheets.

…

Hermione woke with a start. Light was spilling in from behind the green curtains. Oh crap, Hermione thought, crap crap crap she had fallen asleep in Malfoy's bedroom. If she was quiet she could quickly sneak out now unnoticed-

"Granger what the hell are you doing in my room!?" Malfoy's angry voice made her jump. She looked up to see his ice cold blue eyes staring piercingly into hers. "Are- are you holding my hand?" Malfoy asked incredulously, his voice filled with disgust. Hermione looked down and saw that their hands were still intertwined. She snatched her hand away quickly, "Uh, um, I know this looks bad but it's not what you think," Hermione stuttered, feeling her face grow warm with the embarrassment of the situation.

"Well please, do enlighten me as to why you are in my bedroom, by my bed, holding my hand," Hermione blushed again, it did look bad.

"Er well you see, I couldn't sleep, and then I heard you crying out in your sleep and I felt like I should check if you were ok –trust me I have no idea why- so I did and I realised you were having a nightmare and I tried to wake you but you didn't so-"

"So you thought you would just spend the night in my room?" Malfoy said callously, still glowering daggers at her."

"No!" Hermione cried, "I was going to shake you awake but when I touched your hand you stopped writhing and I could tell the nightmare was gone so I turned to go but you.. you um.."

"Yes Granger?" Malfoy asked impatiently.

"You er sort of grabbed my hand in your sleep and I couldn't get you to let go without waking you so I thought I'd just sit by your bed for a little while until you let go and I would go back to my room but er, I sort of fell asleep," Hermione finished sheepishly, refusing to meet his gaze. They were both silent for a few moments and Hermione thought she might die from the sheer awkwardness of it.

"Why?" Malfoy finally asked quietly.

"It's your hand Malfoy I don't know why it-"

"No I mean.. why did you come when you heard me?" Hermione looked up at him, surprised that he had asked that instead of another angry remark, "I mean.. we both hate each other." Malfoy's eyes were fixated firmly on the bedsheet. Hermione was silent for a moment as she pondered his question, why had she come?

"I get them too you know," she murmured finally.

"Oh," was all Malfoy said in reply.

A hush fell over them both once more, before Malfoy cleared his throat, "Well if you don't mind," Malfoy's usual cold voice had returned, "you can leave now."

Hermione sighed internally. She knew the cordiality would not last for long. She got up stiffly from her curled position in the chair, "Make sure you wash your hands," she muttered as she left, "I'm sure you don't want mudblood germs on them." And with that she closed the door to Malfoy's bedroom.

…

Hermione entered the great hall for breakfast. You would think that the great battle at Hogwarts had never taken place, everything in the castle had been fixed to exactly as it was before. As if it had never happened. Hermione thought that this was somehow a dishonour to the people whose lives had been sacrificed in the battle. She observed the students in the hall. If someone walked in without knowing of the events of the previous year, everything would seem completely normal. Yet, as she looked closely, she could still see the scars behind the smiles, the pain behind the laughs. Wounds were still healing everywhere she looked.

She soon spotted Harry and Ron, halfway down the Gryffindor table. As she sat down Harry spoke up, breaking her out of her troubled thoughts. "So you survived then?" he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes at him, "Only just."

"Did you hex him?" Ron asked hopefully. Hermione laughed, "No Ronald, I did not." Ron's face fell in disappointment.

The three of them all compared their new timetables, happy to see that they shared the majority of their lessons together. Hermione had taken more subjects than them, so a few of her lessons were without Ron and Harry, which she found a bit daunting. She had Ancient Runes and Arithmacy on her own.

Hermione looked up as she saw the light blond head of Draco Malfoy enter the Great Hall. They briefly shared eye contact, but both of them looked away quickly, and Malfoy went to sit at the Slytherin table next to two Slytherins who Hermione recognised as Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Ron didn't miss the brief exchange. His mouth however was full toast when he tried to speak and he only succeeded in spraying a few crumbs of toast onto Hermione's cheek, which she brushed off, glaring at him, "Ron I've told you before, stop trying to talk with your mouth full of food," Ron mumbled an apology, although it was barely audible with his mouth still stuffed with toast. He swallowed and asked suspiciously, "Why did you and Malfoy look at each other like that? Did something happen last night?" Hermione immediately felt a pang of hurt Ron had so little trust in her. "No Ron of course not!" Hermione cried indignantly, "At least not how you're thinking anyway." She proceeded to recount to the pair of them the embarrassing events of the previous night.

Harry found the whole thing hilarious. "I wish I had seen his face when he woke up to you holding his hand," he gasped through his laughter, "next time make sure you draw on his face." She couldn't help but crack a smile too, it was kind of funny in hindsight. "I don't intend there to be a next time, the once was traumatizing enough."

Ron on the other hand did not find anything about it remotely amusing. "Damn right there better not be a next time, what were you thinking Hermione? Going into his bedroom and- and holding his HAND," Ron's face had turned the familiar shade of purple that it always turned when Ron got worked up, and his voice was filled with disgust. "Oh Ron grow up," Hermione snapped, "It wasn't anything like you are implying it was."

"Well I'm sorry that I'm not comfortable with my girlfriend sneaking around into other boys bedrooms like a-" Hermione's hurt transformed into anger in a heartbeat and she rounded on Ron furiously, "Like a what Ron Weasley!? Like a what? How dare you even SUGGEST I would do something like that after EVERYTHING we have been through!" her voice was rising into a shout, causing some uncomfortable stares to be directed at where they were sitting, "If that's how much trust you have in me, in our relationship then why- why are we even together!?" Hermione's eyes stung with tears and she grabbed her bag, pushing herself up from the table angrily. "Hermione wait I didn't mean-" but Ron's attempt at backtracking fell upon deaf ears and Hermione fled out of the Great Hall.

…

"Nice going Ron," Harry muttered under his breath, "you should probably go and find her and apologise."

"You're taking her side?" Ron exclaimed angrily, "she's the one who went into that ferret's bedroom, and she's the one who is always overreacting to everything I say, why can't she just be like the other girls who-"

"Like what other girls Ron?" Harry glared at his best friend, "those girls in your fan club who want you to sign their shirts, or the ones that burst out giggling every time you enter the common room? The ones that hang on your every word?"

"Piss off."

"The only reason they are into you is because you're famous, half of them have never spoken to you in their lives! Hermione knows you better than anyone and she loves you for you. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you so don't go and screw it up because you want to start playing the field." Harry got up from the table. Ron was poking at his bacon like a sulking child. "And if you're not going to go and find her then I will."

…

Hermione had gone to her place of sanctuary, the one place where she could briefly escape the harshness of reality and lose herself in another world, a world built of words. The library. She had secluded herself to a corner and had her head buried behind a book. However for once, she found she was not able to let her mind wander into the pages and evade the struggles of reality.

She slammed the book shut, releasing a cloud of dust into the air. She hadn't meant the things she had said to Ron. In her anger she had said things she didn't really believe. Of course she didn't want their relationship to end, she told herself. They were Hermione and Ron, they were meant to be together… right?

"Hermione!" she looked up at the sound of her name, her heart lifting slightly, thinking that for once, maybe Ron had decided to take the moral high ground and- but then she zoned in on where the voice had come from and saw that it was Harry, and not Ron jogging towards her. "I knew I'd find you here," Harry panted, slumping down on the chair over the desk to Hermione. "Where else would I go," Hermione murmured, smiling slightly at Harry, whose eyes were filled with concern.

"Look, I'm sorry about Ron. You and me both know that when he gets worked up he can be a complete ass and half the time he doesn't even know what he's saying and-"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted, "I know, I know what he's like. I'm not even angry anymore about what he said, I'm angry because it shouldn't be you here, trying to make amends, it should be him. He should be the one desperately trying to fix things, pleading with me to forgive him. But he's not. What does that say about how much he wants to be in this relationship?" She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve.

"Hermione don't think things like that. I know that he can be an idiot sometimes, he will say the wrong things, and then he'll be a stubborn prick when it comes to swallowing his pride and apologising, and he-"

"Are you going somewhere with this? Cause at the moment I can't see how this is helping."

"Uh right, my point, I did have a point wait a second… Oh yeah, my point is that, well… that's Ron isn't it? That's always been Ron. That's the Ron who you love. We all have flaws and I guess… they're Ron's." Harry finished, looking at her hopefully, "You do understand what I'm trying to say don't you? Don't make me try and explain that again." She knew he was trying to cheer her up so she forced a laugh, and attempted a smile.

"Yeah I get it."

Harry's shoulders sagged slightly in relief, "Hey I said I'd meet Ginny during our free but if you want I can stay and-"

"No it's ok Harry, go and see Ginny, I'm fine." Ginny was good for Harry. She was one of the few who had the power to make him… forget for a while.

Harry looked torn, but she assured him again that she was fine, and so she found herself alone once more. Soon she found herself wishing she had asked Harry to stay, as her loud thoughts were once again giving her a headache.

Why was she suddenly questioning everything that she had once been so certain of?

…

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Ron still hadn't apologised. Hermione sat as far away from him as she could in every lesson, refusing to look at him. Twice, she had made holes in her parchment because she was pressing her quill down so hard. At the end of her final lesson, she hurried out of the classroom without a backwards glance. She never thought she would think this but today, she was glad that she did not have to sleep in the Gryffindor common room. Upon reaching her and Malfoy's private dormitory, she was surprised to see that Malfoy was already there, lounging in his green arm chair with a copy of the daily prophet in his hands. "Trouble in the golden trio?" he asked without looking up at her. "Please, not tonight Malfoy." She was too emotionally exhausted and confused to deal with one more argument today, so she crossed the room to her bedroom and shut the door behind her, a little harder than she intended to. It was only then that she allowed the tears to fall.


	4. Embrace

Draco skimmed through the paper in his hands, smirking at the latest load of rubbish Rita Skeeta had published. Finding nothing that took his interest, he tossed the paper into the fire, causing it to hiss and orange sparks to dance in the amber flames. Watching the paper shrivel into black shards, having witnessed from afar the argument that had taken place that morning in the Great Hall, he found himself wondering what had happened to make the infamous trio fall out.

Just for his own amusement of course.

His mind wandered back further to earlier that morning, as it had been doing all day. Waking up to seeing _her_ curled up on a chair, holding his hand. He had been in such a state of shock that for a good minute he had just sat and stared, his mouth hanging open. Something about how a lock of her caramel hair had fallen over her face, floating back and forth as she breathed had mesmerised him. Her lips had been parted slightly, and something deep within him had longed to reach out and touch them with his finger, to see if they were as soft as he looked. He remembered cursing himself for these desires, these feelings that were completely foreign to him. He repeated over and over in his head that she was a mudblood, she was dirty, inferior. He could never feel anything for her except for disgust. That was how it would always be.

All of his life, Draco had been brought up by parents who hated muggle borns, and he had been conditioned throughout his life to share this hatred. He had been a child, of course he had never questioned his parents as to why he was not allowed to befriend any muggle borns at Hogwarts, why their existence was so wrong, why he was superior to them. He just accepted his parents' words as the truth, like any young child would. The word 'mudblood' had been flung around so carelessly in his household that he had become accustomed to it rolling off his tongue without any significance.

And now, the two people who had brought him up to loathe the existence of people like Hermione were locked up to rot in the dank cells of Askaban. That was where their beliefs had got them. Neither his mother nor his father had been the greatest of parents, both of them forcing him into a life that he didn't want, both teaching him to not question what they told him was right and wrong, but.. they were still his parents. Still his blood. They were the only family he had. And now, he didn't know if he would ever see them again.

Hating muggle borns was all he had left of his parents, the only way he could pretend they were still there, and not wasting away in the cells of Askaban. He almost felt that, if he gave up his prejudice against muggle borns, he would be letting go of them forever. And so he hid behind this prejudice, like the coward he was. So he didn't feel so alone.

And that's why when Hermione woke, he had spoken to her with as much coldness as he could muster. He was a master of concealment, a master of hiding his emotions, so it was not hard to fake his disgust. But in reality, all he could feel was how empty his hand had felt when she had snatched hers away. But his outward façade of coldness crumbled when she had told him why she had come into his room. The empathy she possessed, the infinite purity of her soul had made his mask slip. Malfoy leant back in his chair, covered his face with his hands and groaned. What was happening to him? He shouldn't be thinking these dangerous thoughts.

That was when he heard it. A sound that riddled his nightmares. Sobbing. Her sobbing. In an instant it was as if he was there once more, back at the manor, hearing her crying out in agony but doing nothing, just standing there, paralysed, wanting desperately to help her but bound to where he stood by the chains of his own cowardice. Suddenly he was on his feet. Not this time.

…

Hermione whirled around as her door banged open, fiercely trying to wipe away the tears that were now running in rivers down her face before he saw. What the hell was he doing coming into her ro- in two strides Malfoy's strong arms had encircled her. She froze, not quite believing what was happening. But the warmth of his embrace somehow made her feel so safe, so secure, that she let go of her resolve and let the tears flow once more, tears of anguish mixing with tears of gratitude.

She let go. Wrapping her arms around his torso she released all the tears she had been holding in for so long. She didn't just cry because of Ron. She cried for Fred. She cried for Dobby. She cried for Lupin and Tonks, for their orphaned child who would never know his parents. She cried for Hedwig, and Mad eye, and little Colin Creevy, and Snape and Dumbledore and for her parents who may never know that they once had a daughter, and she cried for herself.

For those who had been left to pick up the pieces.

She didn't know how long she stood there, clinging onto him as if for her life. All the while he stood there silently, rubbing small circles into the small of her back. She buried her head into his shoulder, breathing in his cool scent of spearmint. Her head felt strangely light as her sobs finally began to subside, and she unwillingly pulled away from the steady warmth that was his arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious that she had just let him see her so weak and vulnerable.

They both stood awkwardly, willing the other to say something and break the silence. After what felt like an age, Hermione choked out, "Why?" Malfoy's silver grey eyes refused to meet hers, burning into the floor.

"I should have done that last time."

He just kept shocking her. The only Malfoy that she had ever known was the bully, the spoilt child. And now he was showing her new facets of himself which she never knew existed, that made her question who the real Malfoy was. The complexity of his character intrigued her. He was a riddle that she was determined to solve.

"Malfoy," Hermione said quietly, "You couldn't have done anything,"

"But I could have," his voice sounded broken, "I could have done something. I… I just watched."

"And if you had done anything you would have been jeopardising the lives of your family." Hermione said firmly, "I understand that now. I am no longer bitter."

Malfoy's eyes conveyed the gratitude which words could not. Hermione could now see how he had been burdening himself with guilt, and the weight that her forgiveness clearly had to him. "I should go," Malfoy finally murmured, "It's getting late."

He then turned to go, but as he reached the door Hermione blurted out, "Thank you." He stopped, and turned his head towards her slightly. "For coming in here when you did. Thank you."

"This.. this doesn't change anything. We still hate each other. Right?"

"Right," Hermione echoed softly.

…

He had monumentally screwed up. In one moment of impulse he had completely disregarded… well everything. He thought of what his parents would say if they knew about the interaction that had just taken place between him and a muggleborn. He could almost hear his father's voice in his ear. You are no son of mine.

The cutting words caused an involuntary shudder to rack his body. It couldn't happen again. He couldn't let himself lose his self-control again. He had stepped into dangerous territory as soon as he had entered her room, and now it was his responsibility to revert things to the way they were. Her annoyingly Gryffindor mind now probably over analysing, believing that he had some chance of redemption, that he could be changed. He scoffed under his breath. She needed to stop looking for the good in people and accept that some people were just bad. She was on the side of the light, he was on the side of the dark. It was as simple as that. He flinched as images of his actions as a Death Eater seemed to flash in front of his eyes, taunting him.

There could be no redemption for him.

**Ah this chapter was so hard to write! I hope you all like it. Sorry it's a bit on the short side. Thank you so much to the people who have favourited/followed/reviewed, it really brightens my day. I will try to keep updating fairly regularly, I hope you all are enjoying this story so far.**


	5. Storm

The next morning Hermione felt refreshed, both mentally and physically, and despite her still unresolved problems with Ron, she was in high spirits. A huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders now that she had been able to express the grief which she had been bottling up for so long. Upon leaving her bedroom, she found that Malfoy had already left for breakfast. Probably avoiding her after what had happened last night, she thought to herself. She still was not quite sure as to what exactly it was that had happened last night. She sure as hell wasn't going to tell Ron and Harry about it, that was for sure. It wasn't that anything had happened as such that she should be ashamed of, but the embrace she had shared with Malfoy had felt so.. intimate, that she almost felt a little guilty, although she wasn't sure why.

Her day took a turn for the better at breakfast when Ron gave her a long, grovelling apology at breakfast when she arrived, after a nudge from Harry. She was pretty certain that Harry had scripted the apology for Ron and had forced him to learn it, as it was far too eloquent a speech for Ron to have come up with himself. But all the same she had forgiven him, as she always did.

The first lesson of the new year was Transfiguration. As it was their final year, the spells they were learning had of course become much more advanced and complicated than in previous years, and even Hermione struggled at a few of the particularly difficult incantations. The first topic which they were covering was the transfiguration of non-living objects into living, functional life forms. It was fair to say that the success of the class was limited. Only Hermione, a small girl from Ravenclaw whose face was swallowed by her large round glasses, and to Hermione's surprise, Malfoy, managed to successfully transfigure their rocks into cats by the end of the lesson. Throughout the lesson Hermione's gaze constantly wandered towards Malfoy, but he pointedly looked anywhere but at her.

Harry's attempt at transfiguring his rock had been partially successful. He succeeded in turning his rock into the shape of a cat, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get it to fully transform into a living being. Ron's attempt was also unsuccessful. His rock had remained a rock, except for a fluffy ginger tail which had sprouted from it, causing Harry to have a silent laughing fit behind his desk. Ron retaliated by levitating a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes water balloon over Harry's head, drenching him. This of course resulted in Ron receiving an essay from Mcgonagall which he was to hand in next Transfiguration lesson. Hermione smiled to herself. Things were beginning to feel normal.

That lunch both Harry and Ron had quidditch practice, so Hermione found herself eating lunch with Luna. They had both decided to sit outside as for the first time that week the rain had subsided, and the air around Hogwarts had become a cool yet comfortable temperature. Sitting by the lake –Luna had refused to sit under a tree as she vehemently pressed that they were full of nargles today- Hermione was able to catch up with her friend. She was genuinely thrilled for Luna that her dad had become chief editor of the Quibbler, as much as it caused a pang in her chest at the thought of her own parents.

"What about you Hermione? How has sharing a room with Draco Malfoy been?"

"Common room, not room, we have separate bedrooms," she corrected hastily, "surprisingly it's been… ok. I think he's-" she had to stop for a moment to find the right word, "changed." Yes, that seemed right.

"How so?"

After a slight hesitation Hermione reluctantly proceeded to recount to Luna the events of the previous night. If Luna was surprised, she didn't show it. But then again nothing really seemed to surprise Luna Lovegood.

"So you're in the calm before the storm then," Luna said with a small, knowing smile. Hermione frowned.

"What makes you say that?"

"If you really have started to change Draco's feelings towards muggle borns, then he's going to feel confused. Hating muggle borns is something he has done all his life, if he realises that his whole life he has been wrong, then he is going to feel a lot of things. Scared, angry, vulnerable, guilty, alone. Like everyone's against him. He'll start lashing out. When we don't know who to hate," She paused, picking a flower from the ground and angling her wand at it, making it grow and shrink repeatedly in her palm, "then we hate ourselves."

Hermione sat in silenced, stunned by Luna's words. She watched as Luna continued to charm the flower in her hand, a distant, child-like expression playing across her features. Hermione wondered if she did that on purpose, so people didn't notice how much that Luna… noticed.

"You'll have to help him Hermione," Luna continued, "show him he's not alone. Show him that anyone who is capable of change is capable of redemption."

"Luna," Hermione bit her lip, speaking in a low voice even though there was no one else to hear them, "people died because of him. Because of what he did."

"Fear does make people do awful things, yes." Luna nodded solemnly, curling her fingers around the flower and pocketing it, "but I do think his actions were motivated by fear, not evil. That's got to count for something hasn't it?"

"Must you always find the good in people?" Hermione said, smiling slightly at her friend.

"I think it's only hard to see the good in people when you're only looking for the bad." Hermione found nothing to reply to that. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, appreciating the rare tranquillity of the Hogwarts grounds, before making their way to their final lessons of the day.

…

Draco drummed his fingers against the arm of the green chair in which he was residing while he waited, his feet resting on the round wooden table situated between the two armchairs. She would be here soon. He knew what he had to do. She needed to hate him, and he needed to hate her- not that he didn't already.

He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to make her despise him again, but he reasoned with himself that it shouldn't be that hard to revert her opinion of him back to its original. A few well-placed insults about her blood, or Potter and Weasel should do it. He just had to bait her. A shaky breath escaped his lips as his eyes moved once more to the clock over the fireplace. Not long now.

…

In a sour mood, Hermione was making her way to the Heads' common room. Her footsteps reverberated slightly around the empty corridor; almost everyone else was already in their dormitories, but she had been held up on account of two second years she had encountered, who had been firing the Weasley twins' snot pellets at each other in an empty classroom. Having deducted points from both of their houses and sent them to their dormitories, she then had to stay behind to scourgify the mucus covered classroom.

Finally reaching the portrait hole to the Heads' dormitory she spoke the password and entered, shutting it behind her with a little more force than she intended.

"What's got your feathers ruffled Granger?" the drawling voice of Malfoy greeted her, "more trouble in your dysfunctional relationship?"

She scowled towards the back of Malfoy's head but chose not to rise to the comment.

"Bloody second years!" she exclaimed angrily before cringing at the vulgar language she had undoubtedly picked up from Ron, "I've just had to spend the past half hour scourgifying snot off a wall for your information, and I am strongly beginning to wish that I was not Head Girl."

"Well that would do us both a favour, I wouldn't have to put up with you every waking day." Malfoy sneered unpleasantly, and Hermione wasn't sure why that hurt her. He had said much worse to her over the course of her time at Hogwarts. But after last night and her conversation with Luna, she really had believed things would be different, that the two of them would be able to get on civilly. She shook off the feeling to snap back, "Well you're not exactly my first pick of people to share a dorm with either." She spotted a copy of the Daily Prophet resting on the side table next to Malfoy's armrest. "Hey toss me that paper will you?"

"Excuse me?"

Hermione turned to face Malfoy, confused, "You heard what I said."

Malfoy piercing gaze fixed on her face, and the complete coldness which his face bore shocked her. "What gives you the right to ask me to do anything for you?" Hermione was stunned into a bewildered silence.

"What are you-"

"You think I would really sink so low as to follow the requests of a filthy mudblood like you?" he looked her up and down with a look of contempt, "You are an abomination to the wizarding world."

Where was this all suddenly coming from? Tears of anger sprung to Hermione's eyes before she could stop them. "Malfoy stop it! Why are you saying this?"

"Oh come on," he laughed harshly, "you don't actually think I could see you as anything except the mudblood that you are."

"My blood is exactly the same as yours Malfoy." She tried to keep her voice steady, but it shook with both anger and hurt.

Malfoy barked another harsh laugh, "Your filthy blood isn't worth the dirt on my shoe. And you know what the funny thing is?" He rose from his chair, walking slowly towards her. Hermione was paralysed, rooted to the spot. Her throat had closed up and she couldn't make sound. "You know that you're inferior to me. That's why you spend all of your time buried in books isn't it?" Malfoy continued cruelly, approaching her with slow, deliberate steps, "why you are so _desperate_ to be top of the class. You know you don't deserve to be here so you feel that you have to prove yourself." He was now merely a foot away from her, towering over her menacingly.

Hermione's hands shook. Finding her voice once more, she forced it through gritted teeth, "You're wrong."

"You see!" Malfoy threw his head back and another cruel laugh came from his mouth, "You can't even look at me when you say it! Just admit it Granger, you are a foul contamination of the Wizarding World."

Hermione met his cold eyes defiantly, "YOU'RE WRONG!" this time it was a shout that ripped from her lips, and she found her arms shoving Malfoy in the chest, catching him off guard so that he stumbled backwards.

"Why you little-"

"I am not the disgrace to the Wizarding World, you are Draco Malfoy! What have you ever achieved in your life? Nothing! People died - _children_ died because of what you did two years ago, because you were too spineless to stand up against what was wrong. And then even after you saw the pain, and the heartbreak your actions caused you still followed _him. _You became a pawn on his chess piece, a thoughtless machine at his disposal. You are pathetic, and you are a coward."

…

He forgot all about his aim, his quest to make her hate him. His remaining piece of self-worth, small as it was, was now screaming at him to defend himself, and all thoughts of his previous intentions were shoved to the back of his mind, forgotten. He didn't know why, but he couldn't let her think of him in such a way. Hermione stood before him, eyes wild and shoulders rising and falling with her heaviness of breath.

"Don't call me pathetic." His voice was quiet and threatening.

"Well that's what you are," it was now her who was closing in on him, "just like your father."

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT MY FATHER!" he roared, but she did not flinch.

"I WILL TALK ABOUT ANYONE WHO CALLS ME A MUDBLOOD!" her voice also had now risen to yell, her wild eyes boring into his. They stood there, him towering over her, her meeting his gaze unflinchingly. Their eyes were locked as if in a non-verbal combat, each willing the other to break away. He cursed himself for being the weak one who looked away first, staring instead into the carpeted ground behind her.

"Do you really think that I had a choice?" He thought bitterly.

"What?" Hermione asked in confusion. Crap. He hadn't realised he had spoken out loud. He ground his teeth together with indecision, unsure as to whether or not he should continue.

"When the Dark Lord chose me, he didn't just threaten to kill me if I failed to… if I failed the mission. he threatened to kill my whole family."

"We could have helped you," Hermione's voice had now become soft, "Dumbledore could have provided protection for you and your family if you'd only have just come to him."

"You don't know what he was like!" he spat angrily, "You don't understand! No one does! No one could have helped me. The Dark Lord would have known, he always knows. My family would have been dead the moment I entered Dumbledore's office."

"You don't know that," Hermione countered determinedly.

"Would you have taken that risk? If it was your family? And Potter and the Weasleys and Lovegood, and whoever bloody else is on the list of people you care about?" Hermione's certainty faltered, and that hesitation was enough for his answer.

"You see? It wasn't as simple as you think it is. As anyone thinks it was. No one has any idea." There was a moment's silence and his eyes found their way back to Hermione's face. The anger was gone, instead there was a strange sadness, as if she were looking at a broken toy. She started to reach out a hand as if to touch his arm, and something inside him snapped back into reality. No, no, no this wasn't meant to happen, she wasn't meant to look at him as if he was something damaged, something that could be fixed. The whole point of this had been for her to regard him with loathing, believe he was not possible of change.

He stepped backwards and practically snarled, "Don't touch me mudblood."

Hurt immediately filled Hermione's eyes, "Don't do that! Don't just shut off because you realise you've opened up to someone. Stop pushing people away who I trying to help you!"

"I don't want, or need your help Granger!" he exclaimed angrily, "Just… Just stay away from me! Just stay away and stop messing around with my head. You and me, we're on two different sides, get it?"

Why wouldn't she stop looking at him like that? Like he was something worth saving.

"You said yourself that it isn't that simple."

"Don't twist my words against me, that's not what I said," he snapped, "I picked my side when I became a Death Eater, now I'm stuck with that choice for life. The Dark Lord's death changes nothing. The sooner you accept that, the easier both of our lives will be." He turned away from her then, unable to look into that face any longer without crumbling before it. He needed to get away. She was messing with his head, making him ask himself questions he didn't want to answer. He ignored her when she told him not to walk away, shutting his bedroom door and closing himself off from her. He took out his wand and cast a quick silencing spell around her room.

Then he yelled.

He screamed out his anger and confusion and anguish until his throat was raw and his lungs ached, clawing at his hair and kicking anything he came near in the room. He collapsed in a defeated mess on the floor, his head in his hands.

What was wrong with him?

Why couldn't he have gone with the plan?

Why couldn't he have swallowed his pride and allowed her to think of him as pathetic, if that was what it took to make her hate him, so that he didn't have to feel like he was betraying his family.

Granger was right. Nothing was simple anymore.

**Sorry this took so long! A-level work is piling up and all that jazz, but anyway I hope you liked this chapter, thanks for reading! Please follow/favourite if you enjoyed it, cheers to you stars who have already, and most of all please review! I love to hear feedback, thanks for the lovely reviews that people have already written. Next update may take a while, cause like I said school work is murder right now, but I'll try to get writing as soon as possible.**


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